‘I fell in love with her at first sight’

Pearl, my Epiphone FT- 150 jumbo steel string guitar is what I’d rescue first from a fire. She’s the only instrument, among dozens, that’s allowed to live outside a case between sessions. I fell in love with her at first sight. I took my entire building society account, (in which Saturday job savings had carefully been stowed) and sold a classical guitar cheap to amass the sum of £43 for her. She had neither strings nor case, and I carried her home wrapped in brown paper and string – walking, as I had no bus fare. I was 14. Freespeechoneeach

‘You are very much a custodian when it comes to a musical instrument’

I have a recurring dream in which my cornet, which I’ve been playing for the last 25 years, meets a grisly end – sat on, welded into bits, crumpled by a passing car, it’s bell end torn off etc. The feeling of utter dread and guilt upon waking up followed by a sigh of relief. You are very much a custodian when it comes to a musical instrument, rather than an owner. Astrachan

‘Finding the right sound can take a lifetime’

The same bond is true of drummers as well, particularly with snare drums and cymbals. I’ve witnessed a drummer break down in tears when he broke a top hi hat cymbal that he’d had for over thirty years. Finding the right sound can take a lifetime. Losing it can be quite traumatic. Bolshevik96

‘We still sound great together’

Guitars are living, breathing things. The wood changes with time and use, bends and thins like the floorboards in your house or tree branches through the seasons. And they do just fit. Or not. It’s the strangest and most mysterious experience that any player will be familiar with – you can pick through a wall of guitars in a music shop and just know instantly when you’re holding the one. The tobacco sunburst Telecaster I picked up 30 years ago in Denmark Street fits me now like it fit me then. And I’ve grown looser and got worn thinner by life just like the maple neck. But like the best chance encounters that endure, we still sound great together, and we know one another inside out. Dylan37

‘To me, she is a constant’

I bought my dear wee Chappell piano when I left school and got a proper job around 40 years ago. I love my piano and would be devastated if she were damaged. Yes she’s just wood, iron and wires (and really heavy!) but to me she is a constant and a source of pleasure. Always ready to be played she fixes headaches and helps with stress, she forces me to slow down and focus and enjoy the wonderful delights of playing, or learning something new. To damage an instrument and be incapable of conceiving the impact on the owner is just sad. Anothergrayday

‘It always has its own seat on airplanes’

A school friend of mine plays the oboe in an ensemble for early music. Her instrument was specially crafted for her in Italy and is her one and only. She never lets it out of her sight and, like the cello in the article, the oboe always has its own seat on airplanes. Blackbirdo2

‘It had a resonance that seemed to shimmer and be almost visible’

My acoustic is a 1957 Martin 0018, which I got from Andy’s in Denmark Street shortly before he closed down. I had some money to burn and was looking for the guitar that was going to be ‘the one’. I thought I might get a Gibson J200 or a nice Taylor but when I tried out that Martin in the shop, it was like nothing I’d ever come across. I can only describe it as feeling like the air under the strings had come alive. It had a resonance that seemed to shimmer and be almost visible. The love I feel for it is much more than a sense of ownership – it’s about everything we’ve done together and how much we enjoy each other’s company. DrBruceBanner

‘It almost feels alive at times’

I have two accordions, one is digital and the other is acoustic. The acoustic accordion was made in Italy in the 1960s by Mosella and it rattles and wheezes a bit, depending upon what combination of notes are played but it has real individuality. The life it lived before I found it has moulded and shaped it and it feels almost alive at times. The digital one is a fantastic instrument and great fun and versatile but I don’t think it will ever become as individual as the acoustic Mosella. neil4072

‘Selling it would’ve felt like removing part of my soul’

Even as very much an amateur musician I can completely relate to this. I’ve owned the same bass guitar since my late teens and, in spite of enduring some tough times financially in the intervening two decades, I wouldn’t have contemplated selling it as it would’ve felt like I was removing part of my soul. When I belatedly and unexpectedly got the chance to play my first live gig five years ago it vindicated holding on to it through those lean years. BernardLerring

‘It allows you to enjoy what you do to the fullest’

‘Feels like an extra limb’ is what I would say too. My saxophone is far more than a tool (as some have commented). I could pick up any saxophone and play it (and quite possibly not sound much different to other people) but the majority would not have the feel or the sound I am looking for. To state the obvious: it’s a means of expression. It’s easy to have an attachment to something that allows you to enjoy what you do to the fullest. Getting used to new equipment is a bit of a bind – it can also be fun despite being a bit limiting temporarily. Bluecamels

‘Choosing my piano was conversational: it spoke to me’

I am an amateur classical pianist, but at a fairly advanced level. I bought my piano 20 years ago, when I arrived in the Netherlands. Choosing it was conversational: it spoke to me, or sang for me, and I knew it was the one. However, it is extremely temperamental, and the tuning slips dramatically and frequently as if it is bad-tempered. My tuner refers to it as his ‘problem child’; he has a relationship with it too.

We have tried everything we can think of to stabilise its crankiness: air moisturising machines, no variations in temperature, different temperatures, various kinds of covers – but no. There are clearly bad days, and bad music, for it. But I love the act of playing it, I love its silvery tone, I love the way my sense of what music is has been shaped by it, and selling it – proposed once in exasperation by said – is not an option. So the tuning is frequent, the sighs are frequent, and so are the complaints of my son, who has perfect pitch. My piano is sulky. NotGlenGould